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Excerpt
from...
How
Speir Turned Out
This
commissioned stage history is a telling of a town's history
by six old friends who squabble over which stories should
and should not be told, by whom, and in what order. Material
for the script and lyrics was collected primarily from taped
interviews with citizens of the town of Bartow (which was
originally named Speir's Turnout, thus the play's name).
THE
MATRON:
I was about to say: Bill Peter Smith was a Justice of the
Peace and held court in his "office," a little building on
his farm. The big event of his day was the buggy ride to get
the mail. Story goes … one day he was holding court in a civil
case. Two lawyers had come all the way from Macon to represent
the two parties. Well sir, the case droned on and on, and
Bill Peter kept looking at his pocket watch. Finally, he interrupted
the proceedings. "Gentlemen, you'll have to excuse me. I have
to go into town to get my mail. Don't worry - I've already
made my decision, and my verdict is in the book on my desk."
(TO
OTHER STORY TELLERS) Now, that's the kind of story all of
you should be telling.
THE
TOWN'S BLACK SHEEP: Humph! If any of us hada tol' that
particular story, you'da jumped aaaall over 'em for cuttin'
in on your territory.
THE
MATRON ignores the BLACK SHEEP's comment.
THE
FARMER: Let's change the subject. Change it entirely.
Let's talk a little about the Great Depression.
THE
MATRON: Which isn't exactly what I'd call a pleasant subject.
THE
FARMER: You got that right. The Depression, it hit Bartow
real hard. If it wasn't bad enough that the country's economy
fell to pieces, on top of that, farmers 'round here suffered
through several years of real bad weather. And on top of that,
company come to call: a little visitor from Mexico called
the boll weevil. Crops failed. Banks failed. And a job - any
kinda job - was a hard thing to find. Some people just barely
managed to stay alive. Over time, things did eventually get
some better. But the days of King Cotton and runaway prosperity,
they never really came back.
THE
BLACK SHEEP: Not long after the Depression, Mr. Dan Futral
is out to his sawmill, one day. Come dinnertime, the men take
a break to eat. Mr. Dan overhears one bunch talkin' 'bout
the Depression days. And although Mr. Dan wasn't into eavesdroppin',
he did figure himself for a good listener. Anyway, he overhears
one fellah say how he managed to get through the Depression.
Fellah says he got by makin' moonshine … only way he could
figure to squeeze a livin' outta his sorry corn crops. Another
tells how he sold off everything he owned. Everything, down
to his last pair of shoes. The stories keep a-comin'. Everyone
of 'em filled with hardship and heartbreak. Pretty soon, all
the men had told their tales of woe, except this one fellah.
He finally speaks up and says, "Well, I'll tell ya how I got
through the Depression. I got through by takin' to preachin'.
Wasn't bad at it, if I do say so myself. Managed to make a
pretty good livin' passin' the hat. And, I'll tell ya like
it is; if we have another one of them Depressions, I'm not
too damn good to do it again!"
THE BLACK SHEEP checks THE MATRON's reaction. She starts to
laugh but catches herself just in time to put on her most
righteous face.
THE
BLACK SHEEP: (TO AUDIENCE) Did she laugh? She near 'bout
did, didn't she? (MEASURING WITH HIS FINGERS) Come that close.
-o-
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